


Sweets, Smoke & Scars

by adellexadr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adellexadr/pseuds/adellexadr
Summary: Iris Blackwood, Fred Weasley, George Weasley - inseparable, irreplaceable, and fiercely loyal. A childhood friendship transformed by growing up, getting into trouble, falling in love, and the War.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Sweets, Smoke & Scars

**Chapter 1**

_**11 years.** _

They were together when the letters arrived.

Like all their life’s pivotal moments: Georgie’s first tooth. Fred’s first solo prank (that failed fantastically – Mrs. Weasley had spotted the rocks he’d Charmed as sweets a mile away). Iris’ multiple wand mishaps – as well as her first successful experiment.

Their letters to Hogwarts would be no exception.

Iris spotted it first, while the twins were plotting yet another scheme to turn Scabbers invisible and send Ron into a frenzy: their loony barn owl Errol, wobbling his way over to the Burrow, and next to him a small, unfamiliar greyish owl. Both had thick envelopes attached to their legs, Errol’s being significantly thicker, and Iris knew _exactly_ what they were.

“HOGWARTS LETTERS!” she shrieked, leaping over Fred and George’s messy pile of notes – countless hours’ worth of scheming, plotting, pranking, inventing. The yellowed pages went flying in the air, but when they heard her yells, so did they.

They had a bet, you see – with Iris being half-witch and the twins being purebloods, it was only a matter of time before the letters arrived, and first to the letters meant a dare was owed: if she got there first, Fred and George would have to buy her favourite ice-cream from Florence Fortescue’s parlour. But if they beat her to it, she was going to have to buy them the entire cart of candies from the Hogwarts Express’ trolley lady.

She had no intention of wasting all her savings on _candies_ and pastries for the boys to enjoy – she had bigger plans than that. Just like she had already come up with a simple, foolproof idea to get to the letters first.

Iris had nicked their brooms and hidden them underneath one of Mrs. Weasley’s many, many cabinets.

So while her partners in crime thundered down the rickety stairs of the Burrow, she ducked away to retrieve one of them, groping through the dust until her fingers closed on a wooden stick.

“What’s going on...” Ron’s clueless face peeked out from his room door as Iris mounted Fred’s Cleansweep Seven. She could hear him shouting triumphantly as he descended floor after floor.

They were fast, but she was going to be _much_ faster.

And the looks on both their faces as Iris zoomed past them on _their_ broom was nothing short of priceless.

“IRIS, that’s MY broom!”

“That’s RUBBISH!”

One week later, Iris was seated at Florence Fortescue’s famous ice-cream parlour in Diagon Alley, smugly licking the chocolate sprinkles off a neat swirl of cinnamon-powdered vanilla ice-cream while the twins looked on sullenly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were across the street in Flourish and Blotts’ getting the necessary first-year textbooks with Iris’ mother, Mrs. Blackwood.

The two witches had been the best of friends in Hogwarts. With Mr. Weasley working long hours in the Ministry in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts and Mrs. Blackwood in the Daily Prophet, both Iris’ house and the Burrow had become frequent drop-off points for babysitting; it was perfectly normal for Mr. Weasley to appear in his flying Ford Anglia on our doorstep, or Mrs. Blackwood to Floo powder into the Weasley’s fireplace, sleepy daughter in hand.

It was their way of life, and with Iris’ keen eye for quirky inventions, she’d gotten along with Fred and George’s penchant for mischief just fine.

“Next time we make a dare with you, we’re setting down some rules,” George said, and Iris snorted.

“Since when do you two ever follow rules?” she asked pointedly, biting into the cone.

Fred laughed and his twin pulled a face. “I still think you cheated,” he said. “We’ll get you back for that one.”

“We’ll still get you back for that one,” she mimicked, finishing off the sweet prize of her sweet, sweet victory over the boys. “You can try.”

Fred grinned mischievously. “Are you daring us, Rissie?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Or what?” he taunted, in the same voice she’d just used on them.

“I’ll Hex you,” she challenged, even though she would never think to hurt either of them.

“ _I’ll Hex you,_ ” Fred teased in a high-pitched voice, and Iris had been about to launch herself at him when her mother returned.

“You? Hex Iris?” Mrs. Blackwood asked, but she was more entertained by the idea than actually concerned. “Imagine if you two ended up dating, that would be a story for the kids…”

Iris was appalled. “Mum!” she hissed, tugging on her coat. The thought of being _romantic_ with Fred or George made her want to hurl – they were practically her brothers. It was embarrassing that her mother even pictured them that way after all their years of being friends since they could walk.

George was laughing. “Freddie and Rissie, sitting in a tree…”

Blissfully ignorant Ginny joined in, oblivious to Iris’ reddening face, almost the same shade as the iconic Weasley hair. “K-I-S-S…”

“Oh my Bowtruckles, _stop_ ,” Iris moaned.

“Yeah guys, stop,” Fred grinned. “I bet there are loads of girls at Hogwarts who look better than old toadface…”

“Fred Weasley, you finish that sentence and I’m confiscating your broom for a week!” Mrs. Weasley’s shrill voice sounded from all the way inside Flourish and Blotts’ as she was paying for their books and stationery.

“Aww, Mum, but what would you do without my help de-gnome-ing the garden!” he called back cheerily.

“Probably make you do it without your broom, mate,” George muttered.

Mrs. Weasley shot them a stern look as she exited and promptly handed them one cauldron each almost overflowing with multiple books, parchment, quills and spare bottles of ink. Iris fell into step with Mum, but not before she caught Fred’s mischievous brown eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

She’d really rather let herself be buried to the ears with their garden gnomes before even considering dating Fred Weasley.

King’s Cross was absolute chaos.

Iris had expected it to be messy, but also thrilled at the idea of finally being able to run through that seemingly solid pillar between platforms 9 and 10. She’d been with the Weasleys when they first saw off Charlie, and she’d been fantasizing about the day she’d get to do it herself.

The process of getting to the perpetually busy station had been easy enough, but the trick was getting through to the other side without any of the Muggles noticing. Percy strode straight into it purposefully, disappearing into the bricks.

“You alright there, Rissie?” Fred asked, falling into step beside her.

“I’m fine,” she replied a little breathlessly. Truth be told, she had been losing sleep and fretting endlessly over this very pillar. One half of her was boundlessly excited at the thought of finally, _finally_ going to Hogwarts after years of watching her mother practice magic and telling stories of her times as a student walking the legendary halls; the other half of her was almost drowning in worry at the thought of not being a good witch, or not getting along with her House, maybe not even passing through the wall…

“Hey.” George’s voice dragged her back to the present as he stood on her other side. All three of them had trolleys packed high with near-bursting luggage bags, Iris’ new long-eared owl hooting curiously at passerby with her piercing amber eyes. “You’ll be a great witch.”

She smirked at him. “Better than you two, definitely.”

“Better at blowing things up?” Fred retorted. “Never.”

Mrs. Blackwood approached her daughter and knelt down to meet her eyes. “You’re going to be a great witch,” she echoed, repeating George’s words. She brushed Iris’ long bangs away from her eyes and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t forget to write, or I will publish a column in the Prophet about how we should normalize sending Howlers to children who don’t write back…”

“I’ll write, I’ll write!” Iris said quickly.

Her mother let out a loud laugh and hugged her one more time. “Oh, we’re so going to miss you at home. We’ll see you at Christmas – the usual tradition at the Burrow, and then at ours. Now, don’t forget to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, too.”

Iris ran to the woman who was practically her second mother and was immediately enveloped in a giant hug. “I’ve told Percy to keep an eye on you,” she began.

“I can handle myself, Mrs. Weasley…”

“Oh, I know you can,” she said, waving off the interruption. “It’s those two I don’t trust, so I’m going to ask if you could please,” she sighed heavily. “Do your very best to _keep them out of trouble._ I don’t need to be receiving letters from the school every other week about them trying to…oh, I don’t know, Charm the Sorting Hat to blow bubbles every time he speaks…”

At the very same time, Fred exclaimed, “Hey Mum, that’s a great idea!”

Mrs. Weasley sighed again, and Iris let out an easy laugh. “It’ll be fine, Mrs. Weasley. If they get in trouble, I’ll just – get them out of it, I suppose.”

She smiled warmly. “I know you will, dear. And you two!” she barked suddenly in the twins’ direction. “You look after her now, or I _will_ send both of you Howlers…”

“Mum, we _know!_ ” they replied exasperatedly. Iris wondered how many times they’d heard this lecture from their mother and smiled discreetly.

Mrs. Blackwood released them from a bone-crushing squeeze and laughed airily. “Trust me when I tell you, they’ve received similar lectures from me, Molly.”

Iris returned to her trolley, between the twins, and heaved a deep breath to steady herself. Fred called over to his brother, “Georgie, why don’t you make the run first. I’ll follow after Rissie to make sure she doesn’t get stuck half-way…”

“Fred!”

“I’m only joking!”

George laughed and high-fived his brother. “See you on the other side, Freddie.” Letting out a breath, his grip tightened on the trolley and he broke into a run…

…and disappeared behind the bricks.

“You next, Rissie,” Fred gestured. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You promise you won’t try to run me over on my way there?” she asked drily.

His answer was a wide grin. “Now, Rissie – why would I ever do that?”

With one last look at the Weasleys waving, and her parents’ proud smiles, she took a deep breath, and put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly, she was running, her trolley building momentum; just steps before the pillar, she closed her eyes…

…and nearly crashed into George.

Even at 11, he was a tall kid, so he picked her up just seconds before Fred appeared with a goofy grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it.”

Iris’ rush of adrenaline was disappearing now that part of the most anxious bit was over, but if she thought King’s Cross was a mess, it was nothing compared to Platform 9 ¾.

She and the boys were surrounded by witches and wizards alike, some dressed formally in suits and coats, smaller figures darting around in House sweaters and scarves; there were groups of older students casually catching up after the summer break, first or second-years milling around nervously, parents (probably old schoolmates) standing around hugging each other or their reluctant kids.

And right in the centre of it all gleamed the majestic Hogwarts Express.

Fred and George might have been used to stories from their older brothers about their first time at Hogwarts, but nothing anybody described could ever have come close to _this._

She was beautiful. Several red carriages with old black and bronze details loomed over the crowd, surpassed the red brick and black ironwork of the station; the old steam train was a vision on its own, and Iris found herself unconsciously smiling.

“Come on, the train leaves at exactly 11 o’ clock!” Fred had to shout over the din of all the people on the platform. Iris stuck close to him, terrified of getting lost in all the noise. At some point, George had stopped at an entrance, hauling up his luggage, followed by Iris’ and then Fred’s. The minute they entered the long hallway of compartments, the outside noise dimmed to a low buzz, and the trio ducked into the first empty one they could find.

“So, Iris,” Fred said, sitting down opposite her. “How’re you feeling?”

To be completely honest, Iris wasn’t sure how she was feeling. She felt nervous, exhilarated, terrified, excited – all at once. She didn’t realize one person could feel all this at once without exploding, it hardly felt possible.

Her only reply was a shaky grin, which caused both the twins to laugh. “Wait till you see the castle,” they echoed. “We’ve just seen pictures but we hear it’s even better in real life.”

People darted past our compartment door, dragging along friends to sit together, uncertain figures casting nervous glances around trying to figure out where to sit, one or two conductors waving them on from blocking the corridor.

“ _Aaaaaalllllll aboard!_ ” A loud voice sounded from outside the train, booming even through the noise of the tracks, the steam, the bustle of movement. Definitely used a Charm for that, Iris thought. _I wonder when we’ll get to learn…_

The entire train lurched forward suddenly, nearly throwing some students outside the corridor off their feet. One girl in particular seized the opportunity and ducked her head in. “Is it alright if I joined you? I don’t think I’m going to make it very far if the train moves like this.”

“Yeah, come in,” Iris gestured immediately, moving aside to make space.

“Thank you!” she gushed, wheeling in her luggage. George immediately sprung up to help her hoist it onto the rack above our heads, and she sat down with a nervous smile. “Laura Whiteburn. First year.”

“Gred and Forge Weasels,” the twins said simultaneously, and Laura blinked at them, unsure of what to say.

“Fred and George Weasley,” Iris corrected, glaring at them chuckling. “And I’m Iris Blackwood. Also first year.”

“Oh, that is swell,” Laura beamed. “I was so worried I wouldn’t find friends, or I’d end up in a compartment of third years and I wouldn’t know what they were talking about. Are you both from wizarding families?”

“I’m half and half,” Iris replied. “Gred and Forge – oh my word, I mean _Fred and George_ come from a pureblood family. So we’re from this world. What about you?”

Laura’s dark skin turned slightly pink. “My parents are Muggles,” she answered carefully. “It was a bit confusing when the letters arrived, really. We didn’t even know how to find Diagon Alley so we had to ask around and hope for the best. That’s why I was a little scared with choosing the right compartment.”

George had finally stopped howling over the naming mix-up, leaving Fred to snigger on his own. “That’s alright, we’ll fill you in on the way. Iris has been introducing us to Muggle things for years, too. Our dad loves the idea of rubber ducks.”

“Not going to lie, I still don’t actually know what the real function of it is.”

Laura burst out laughing, and when the trolley lady called out for treats, Iris was the first at the door. She had a friend to introduce magic sweets to, and she was about to buy four of everything: one for Laura, one for herself, and one each for the twins.

“I thought we lost the dare,” Fred began, cheeks tinted slightly red as she handed him his own pile. Iris could tell what he was thinking: he would never have been able to afford all of these at one go – the Weasleys were content but not the most well-to-do wizarding family.

It was precisely why Iris saw fit to spend on the boys whenever she could – always small treats, nothing ever too extravagant (they wouldn’t accept lavish gifts, anyway); even when they lost her dares, she often changed her mind about her prize. The Weasleys treated her like family, and whatever little they had, they shared willingly and happily.

She’d grown up with these boys, and she knew them like the back of her hand. George would humbly accept her small offerings, quietly accepting them and maintaining the balance by doing something small in return; once, she’d baked them her own version of Pumpkin Pasties and he had gifted her a set of Christmas-themed cookie cutters.

Fred, on the other hand, was a little bit prouder than that – he’d still (mostly grudgingly) accept her gifts, but would go out of his way to repay her. One time, she remembered fondly that she helped him heal some burns on his arm after an experiment went badly; she’d used her father’s stash of Muggle medicinal creams which to Fred, smelled weird but worked ‘just like magic’. The very next week, he’d secretly put together a plan with her parents to completely redecorate her room in her current favourite theme: the Milky Way.

They didn’t like to talk about it – Fred, especially – so in reply, Iris said with not a small ounce of sarcasm, “Consider it a thank you and an apology for nicking your broom.”

Fred opened up his box of Berty Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and failed to hide a very badly concealed grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all readers! 
> 
> This is the first chapter of a work I've planned to span multiple chapters and I'm so excited to share the story with you. The Weasley twins' journey will more or less follow along the same Harry Potter timeline, with some canon divergence in the story, especially after the Order of the Phoenix timeline.
> 
> Thank you for giving my first work on AO3 a go!


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